Everything Falls in an Instant
by ClickTickTack
Summary: The Arthur gang has grown up, and a lot has changed since the third grade... Especially Buster. TW: Eating Disorders.
1. A Preview From A Different Perspective

The doorbell rang early on the Saturday morning, and Arthur hurried to answer it.

He expected their neighbor, Vicita, coming over for help on her homework like she'd been doing recently. She was doing poorly in her sixth grade math class, which Arthur had done well in. D.W.' kept complaining, because Vicita doesn't really need help; she just like's to flirt with Arthur. He never noticed it; he simply liked helping her out, now that her Brother was gone to school.

But Vicita wasn't standing at the door when he opened it, clutching her books close to her chest, looking disheveled and in need of help. Instead, it was Buster, tapping his foot nervously, looking about to jump out of his skin.

"Can we go upstairs?" He asked, right away. Buster was never awake, let alone out of his house, this early on a Saturday. He was hardly awake for the first hour of school. Something urgent was on his mind. Arthur realized this, and it started to make him nervous too.

"Sure." He said simply, and they went inside, up to his room.

"We're friends, right?" Buster asked, as soon as Arthur shut the door.

"What kind of a question is that?" He pulled the chair out from under his desk, and motioned for Buster to sit in it, then sat down carefully on the end of his bed.

"Right, I knew that." He paced around a little bit, wringing his hands together, itching his ear. He continued on like that for a long moment, until he finally collapsed into the chair, his head in his hands. He looked up earnestly. "Friends keep secrets, don't they?"

"Of course! Why do you even have to ask that?" Arthur said, leaning forward. His mind rushed to everything that could be wrong. He could have stolen something, his mom could be hurt, maybe he killed someone...

"I- Sorry. I just- I need to tell you something, and I don't know how you're going to react." He paused, taking a second to regain his composure, trying to pull his racing thoughts together.

"You can tell me anything, Buster." He held up his right hand, and put the other across his heart. "I swear, I won't tell."

Buster stared straight into Arthur's eyes, and Arthur stared right back. They stayed like that, trying to read each other, until Buster broke his eyes away, and looked at the ground.

"...I'mgay." He mumbled, his voice so low Arthur couldn't be sure of what he heard.

"You're... what?"

"I'm gay!" Buster shouted, then stood up quickly. "Sorry, I should've told you sooner. I'll go before you can catch it or anything."

"Wait!" Arthur called out, reaching for him although he was across the room.

Buster turned around, his expression meek and beaten.

"You can't catch it. It's not like chicken pox." Arthur said, and smiled.

Buster couldn't help it; he smiled back. They started laughing, relief flowing through them both.

"So you don't hate me?" Buster asked as the laughter died down.

"How could I?" He asked, only half serious. "Besides, we've been best friends since we were three. You think I didn't know already?"

Buster stared at him, stunned. "You _knew?" _

Arthur laughed. "Yeah, of course. I mean, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah, I guess. How long have you known?"

"Since we were old enough to put two-and-two together, I guess. Around third or fourth grade I could see it. Still can," he laughed again, noting Buster's odd sense of style. It wasn't a generic boys style, that's for sure. "How long have _you _known?"

He sighed, then smiled. "Around then, too."

"So, are you going to tell everyone else?" Arthur leaned back on his bed, more relaxed now that all the tension was gone.

"Everyone else? You mean like Muffy and Binky and Brain and Francine and all of them?" Buster shuddered. "Do I have to? It was hard enough to tell you..."

"Well, I guess you don't have to, but it'd be good. There are no other gay kids in school, and you're on top! It'd be perfect!" Arthur cheered, but Buster wasn't as enthused.

"Yeah, or I could plummet to the bottom and get killed." He slumped back in the chair, Arthur's excitement lost on him. "Doesn't sound like a good risk."

"Oh, come on, Buster! Stop being such a downer!"

"I'm not being a downer, I'm being realistic!"

"Since when have you ever been on bottom?"

"Never, yet. That's why I don't want to go down there!"

Arthur stopped pushing him, deciding it simply wasn't worth it.

"So, you gonna keep hiding it forever? Marry a girl, have a nice little family one day?"

Buster shook his head. "No, none of that. I don't want to keep hiding it, just..." He sighed. "Just give me some time, alright?"

Arthur nodded.

"So, you want to go get something to eat? I think my dad's cooking breakfast downstairs."

"Naah, I'm gonna head to the park, run some laps or something." He stood up, and Arthur noticed how his pants nearly fell off, but he cinched it tight with a belt around his waist. It was almost funny, he used to love food. Now Arthur rarely saw him eat.

"I'll see you at school, I guess." Arthur said, as Buster started to leave.

"Yeah. Promise not to tell, right?"

Arthur nodded, and Buster flashed a smile before he left. He'd changed a lot since third grade.


	2. Buster Explains

_A/N – This one's a bit different from the last one. I haven't exactly been editing these, and this one was written at two in the morning. If there is a really obvious grammar/continuity mistake, I apologize. Rather then being told from third person, this one is in first, and is told by Buster. While the updates may not be regular, I do hope to continue with this story, as it's been playing out in my head for a while now. Anyway- Have fun, leave a review if you want, otherwise thanks for blowing a little more time on this. _

I'd always kinda known I guess. There was no one deciding moment, no big revelation one day that I liked boys. It was more. . . A series of related events, that made everything fall into place. A big puzzle in my brain that had been missing one piece was now complete, and you could clearly read what had been guess at all along.

I AM GAY.

And there was no way to change that anymore. It just was.

It took me another three years to come to terms with it myself. I was in third grade when I got the message, and it wasn't until sixth that it sunk in. We were just starting up on a sex ed program, just the basics. They separate the girls from the boys, and tell us what they think we need to know. About our bodies, about our 'future partners'. All very hetero, without a dash of homo.

I didn't eat lunch that day. I felt sick to my stomach after that class, a knot forming in my gut. Up until then I'd been known as a bottomless pit, eating anything and everything. After that, I just started lessening that. Some times I'd go days, weeks without eating. I didn't really think about it. It was just something I did.

Even when I finally came to terms with it all, I didn't want to act on it. Being with another boy seemed dirty. Not that I could find someone around my neighborhood to fool around with anyway. I wasn't ready to tell Arthur, let alone make a move on him. The only 'gay' person I'd heard of in my town was the 'trannie' we occasionally saw in the supermarket.

It was in seventh grade, when my dad asked me to ride along with him again. Replace second semester with a trip around the world. What kid would want to leave their whole life behind for six months, just to take a ride they'd taken dozens of times before?

I would. Every time.

I rarely got to see my dad, and the time we did spend together was sparse. Whenever I got a chance to see him for a long period of time, I went for it. Not to mention, anytime away from a life that wasn't really mine was welcomed.

In the third grade, I got my first video camera. The handle was cheap and replaced with duct tape within days, the zoom hardly functioned; but it was mine. I filmed anything I could see, friends, family, ducks. I literally spent an hour filming paint drying.

At home, nothing was quite sacred. My mom went through my stuff a lot, worried about what I was into, or simply wondering where the stink was coming from. On the plane, it was a different matter. My dad didn't care what I had, as long as I didn't leave anything behind. I got left alone a lot, had to find my own ways to entertain myself. So I started to film things, whether they were the passengers, or the exotic countries I'd landed in.

I sent a lot of those back to my friends in E.W.C., when I was on my trip in third grade. By seventh I'd gotten a much better camera, and a new idea - I started to talk to the camera. I confessed things I'd never told anyone else to that camera. You could say, that camera is the first person I came out to.

On the whole trip, I never missed a meal. I didn't refuse, or ignore the plea's from my stomach. I paid attention to what smelled good, what tasted good, rather then what would stop me from feeling hungry. Back home, hunger gave me a barrier to the rest of the world. It gave me something to focus on rather then having to think those thoughts I didn't want to. It was something I could control, while everything else was slipping through my fingers.

On the plane, I was in control. We flew through the sky, from one mystic land to the next. We saw all sorts of lifestyles, ones that made the one I may have to live seem simple.

All good things must come to an end, right? When the plane touched down in EWC, I was not prepared. Everything went back to normal, right away; too quickly, it seemed. Within weeks I was just another kid, back into the daily grind of schoolwork I'd missed and trying to reconnect with the friends I'd lost for months.

Enter, George. We were never great friends, we had a lot of issues. Thinking back on it, he was always there. Never right in the front, like Arthur or Brain; he hung to the back, didn't take the spotlight. But he was there. He always was.

So it was no wonder, that he was there in my room, two months after I'd gotten home, in one of the last weeks of summer. Mom was out, some ladies-night-fest thing. Nearly eight graders are, apparently, allowed to stay home alone. Our neighbor was home, a nice older woman with grown kids. She promised to be there if we needed anything. Arthur was gone on vacation with his family, Brain away at a brainiac camp he'd been going to for the last few summers. Scrolling through my mental list of friends, I thought of George. It'd been a while since we'd hung out one-on-one, hadn't it? A sleep over is the perfect time to catch up, right?

So I called him. And he came over that night, sleeping bag and backpack in hand. We expected a normal night.

I didn't mean for it to happen. I didn't want- It wasn't supposed to happen like that. We didn't go very far, we just. . .

We were playing truth or dare.

"Okay, okay, it's your turn." I tried to calm my laughter, it'd been going strong all night. How had I forgotten how funny George was? "Truth or dare?"

"I guess I'll take... Truth."

"Have you ever... Kissed a girl?" I thought it would be a stupid question, and that it would get a stupd answer. Of course he had. He'd probably gone a lot farther then that with a girl too. Just another thing everyone else had done that I hadn't.

"No." He said it sheepishly, like he was just as ashamed as I was. "H-Have you?"

"You didn't say truth or dare."

"Fine; truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Have you ever kissed a girl?"

I took a deep breath. Maybe it'd be okay to reveal this to him, maybe it didn't have to stay between me and my camera anymore. I pulled myself together, had to compose myself, pretend like I hadn't spent the last ten seconds debating whether I'd made the right decision. In, in, in, in and... "Nope." Now quick, don't give him a chance to mock or ask questions, use whatever breath you have left and just say... "Truth or dare?"

He seemed surprised. At how quickly I'd tried to change the subject, or at my answer? He took a moment, then spoke softly, seriously- "Dare."

His eyes wanted me to do it. His posture was just telling me to. Something about him overwhelmed my senses, I couldn't help myself, I didn't think. I just acted. I pounced over the top of the popcorn separating us, and I pressed my lips to his. We kissed for a full ten seconds, I counted each one with three beats of my heart, then we broke apart. We sat, staring at each other in awe for a moment, neither one of us wanted to speak, just live in this unknowing silence where we could assume anything we wanted. I couldn't stand it. His breath on my mouth felt so warm, I had to feel his heartbeat pressed atop mine. I pounced on him again, gentler this time, making sure our teeth didn't bump together. And we kissed. For thirty seconds. It was longer then Arthur had ever kissed a girl, that was for sure. No way was Francine as good a kisser as George.

We didn't go any farther, we just kissed the night away.

I didn't love George. Not then, not in that moment. Not in any of the moments that came later. We were never in love, that was clear.

Eighth grade, for me, was when everything really started to fall in to place. Or maybe things had been in place, and eighth was when they all started to fall apart. Whatever it was, it was the start. Everyone was changing, evolving into whole other people. I wasn't immune either.

Everything was changing.

Nothing anyone tried to do could stop it.

Only thing you can do is ride the wave, and do your best to keep your head above water.


	3. The First Day Of Eighth Grade

A/N: Thanks for all the input! I'm glad you think it's good, and I'll try to update more often. With school and life in general I may not be able to, but I think it'll be good for me to keep writing this.

Anyway, I need to fix up chapter 2; there's a lot of things I don't like about it. Buster addresses some of them here, but one day when I get the time and motivation I'll just edit all of these. Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy!

Spoiler alert: I'm graduating from High School today. It still shocks me that I'm alive, that I made it through. I battled the beast and I won. I guess that's what I'm trying to get across, that it is possible. Even the most massive monster, even the darkest days can be defeated. You just have to find their weakness.

Eighth grade was hard year for me. No, hard is the wrong word. Confusing. Emotional. Insane. Chaotic. Crazy. Unstable. Happy. Sad. Depressing. Uplifting. Romantic. They're all strong words, but not strong enough to describe the spark that went off in my head that year.

We were supposed to be on top of the heap. That's what everyone was saying, that's what the buzz was, as we walked into the cafeteria that first day of school. There was no wandering aimlessly, trying to find our classes. There would be new teachers, books, lockers- but all of that would come later. None of it mattered just yet, all we needed was each other, finally back from summer camps, vacations, and all other things that had kept us apart during the warm summer months.

I had been eating normally off and on- what I said before may have been a bit exaggerated- I would go a day with out eating, maybe, skip a meal here or there because I was upset. It was nothing huge, no two-week fasts, and I hadn't started to count calories, or stare obsessively into the mirror. All of that, would come later. After school started, I ate pretty normally. I forgot about talking to my camera for a while too. I 'forgot' - AKA, pushed to the deepest corner of my mind and tried to never think about- what happened with George.

I met up with Arthur at our table. It had been our table since we were sixth graders. Back of the room, close to the vending machines, and the lunch line. I had friends in high places, and was always well-liked, so I didn't lose any of that status when I went to Junior High.

We had long gotten past the age of hugs, but after being so long gone, it seemed like we had to do something. So I reached out to shake his hand, slipped out of his grip and wiggled my fingers behind his hand, in the way our secret handshake from so many years ago had began. Arthur just stared at me.

"What are you _doing?_" Arthur asked, his voice accusatory without meaning it to be. I know he didn't mean to make fun of me, but it hurt. So a little sheepishly, I slid in next to him.

"Nothing; never mind. How was your vacation?" I glanced around at everyone else sitting at the table. A couple boys, one with red hair the other blond, that I recognized but could not remember the names of, Muffy, and Francine. I pinched myself, hard, when I found myself longing to talk to George, and focused on what Arthur was saying.

"D.W.' wanted to build one of those sandcastles, like we did when we were, what, five? But I told her we were too old for that now. She's in fourth grade this year, I'm in eighth. We're way too old for those baby games." Arthur's tone was something I didn't quite recognize, but would hear a lot of in those coming months- it contained an air of superiority, that apparently went along with being twelve. "Anyway, what did you do all summer?"

"I got back from my trip, and then I went to summer school." I didn't mean to say it so blandly, but it really was what I did. I had two options when my dad pulled me out of school for half a year- I could either take my schoolwork with me, or I could go to summer school when I got back. Summer school seemed like a good option back then, but when it took up all of my free 'friend' time, I wasn't so excited.

"Oh, right." Arthur said, then quickly turned to Muffy, to change the subject. "So, Mary, how're things with you and Jeff?"

"Who's Jeff? And who's "Mary"?" I asked, with a laugh. It was supposed to be humorous, but all I got was a glare.

"_I'm _Mary," Muffy said. "And Jeff is my boyfriend. Where you at, Buster?"

"She's been going by Mary since last year- didn't you get the e-mail?" Arthur asked, just as critical.

I shrunk down a bit, my confidence lacking. "No," I said, sheepishly, and yawned to hide it. "Must've missed it."

"Well, anyway, they're great." Muffy- Mary continued, ignoring the change in my posture, if they noticed it at all. "I thought dating a Sophomore would be hard, but it's totally not. He's so hot too, and a great kisser. I can't believe how good he is with his tongue."

"Eww, Mu-Mary, too much info!" I said, cringing in over dramatized disgust. Another joke, that before everyone would have laughed at. But again, I got glares of disapproval.

"C'mon, Buster. Stop being such a kid." Francine said, and nudged Muffy's arm. Mary's arm. Whatever. "Go on- What else have you two done?" Her eyes lit up with what was supposed to be juicy gossip. The full feeling in my stomach made me feel doubly uncomfortable sitting through this. I started to stand up, as she talked about blow jobs, and started handing out tips that made Arthur holler in approval.

"Where are you going, Baxter?" Arthur asked, and I smirked at the more recent joke of us using our last names rather then firsts.

"I gotta hit up my locker, Read." I slung my heavy backpack over my shoulder. "I'll see you in class."

I had no reason to go to my locker. Everything I need had been placed delicately in my bag the night before, per my mother's usual request. She liked to know I was all ready and nothing was out of place, even if it did mean her rule was a bit strict.

So I lied to my best friend, that day. It might have been small, but it was the first of many, that would lead to my downfall.

Leaving the table that day changed the course of history- if you want to be dramatic about it.

I was walking in the general direction of my locker/junk pit, but it was more of an aimless walk to kill time. The bell was going to ring in a couple minutes- it had too. I just needed to wait for that.

The halls were pretty empty, but a couple kids were scattered about, sitting in various places with friends. When I got to my locker hallway, I was surprised to see it virtually empty- except for one person.

George was standing, head bent down, at the locker about five down from mine. _Oh god_, I thought to myself. _This can't be happening. Why did his locker have to be _there_, of all places. _

I could run away. I could run, and I could find my first class, and I could hang out in there until the bell rang. I could avoid my locker, just carry everything, everywhere. I could switch lockers with someone else, Arthur, maybe.

But I couldn't just avoid confrontation all my life. With faint nausea, and a full stomach, I went up to George.

"Hey," I said, and the boy looked up, frightened until he saw my face.

"Hey," He said back, and finished opening his locker. He knelt down, and started to shove books in.

I opened my mouth to say something, then closed it again. I had nothing to say.

No, that was wrong.

I had dozens of things I wanted to say, things I wanted to ask. But I was too afraid, too weirded out by everything that had happened.

I sighed, and slumped against the wall. "Is it always going to be weird like this?" I asked, melodramatically.

"I hope not," George said, and we both laughed.

"You doing anything after school?" I asked, sliding down against the locker and tucking my knees to my chest.

George shook his head. "Not that I know of." He said, zippering up his now full backpack.

"Want to come to my place? So we can, I dunno, talk? Clear things up?" _Cuddle. _I wanted to beat myself up for that last thought. At least if I had though about sex or something I wasn't such a fag. If I just wanted to 'cuddle', I was huge faggot. Messed up thinking, looking back on it.

"Sure." George said, and we sat there together in an awkward silence for a moment. I thought he wanted to kiss me, gently, like couples do. But it didn't seem right, with us. With what we were. I think he got that too, and he just stood up, and walked away.

Then I was there, alone in the hallway, knees tucked to my chest, waiting for the bell to ring.


	4. Roles Are Reversed

_"Buster is always smiling," Arthur read, standing in front of our third-grade class. "He's always got a great joke, and he's always making me laugh." He stopped for a moment, looking to the teacher for assurance, then continuing with more confidence when he received a nod. "And the one thing, he loves more than anything in the world," his voice was beaming with excitement, like he had the best joke in the world coming up. He glanced at me, and his smile widened at the connection we shared, like this was something only he knew, and it made him so excited that he knew and was allowed to share it with all these other people. "The thing he loves the most," his smile was larger than his face, stretched out from ear to ear, "Is food." _

I skipped lunch that day. Nerves had bundled up in my stomach, and I couldn't bear to even try. The meeting with George later was weighing heavy on my mind, and breakfast was still threatening to come up. I threw away my brown paper bag before I got in the cafeteria, and pretended I'd left it at home.

"Wow, you lose some 'cells over the summer, B?" Francine joked, rapping her knuckles against my head. I leaned out of her way, uncomfortable by the invasion of space and the thick smell of sugar on her hands.

"Shut up, Frank." I said, countering with a long forgotten nick-name that still itched her the wrong way. She rolled her eyes and leaned into Arthur, wrapping her big arms around his waist. She'd gained some weight since she was younger, no where near as active as she used to be. The appeal came mainly from her breasts, although I didn't really see why. Her personality was ugly enough to scare me off, but I guess Arthur didn't see it that way. Her C's got in the way.

That's why I was the fag and he was the straight guy with the hot girlfriend.

"You want some of mine?" Arthur asked, offering a gesture of kindness to make up for the dick he'd been earlier in the day. I shook my head, and pulled out my water bottle. If I drank it fast enough it'd make my stomach feel full for a while, and it'd stop it from growling. Water was enough to survive on.

He looked skeptical, but his girlfriend kissing up on his neck distracted him. He was gone a couple minutes later, the two of them sneaking off into some corner for more intense interactions. I was left more or less alone, not in the mood to socialize and no one immediately talking to me. I pulled out a comic book and pretended to read for the rest of the period, while my brain raced around too fast to focus on anything.

The rest of the day was pretty much the same. I welcomed everyone I'd been missing over the summer, got acquainted with my seat and teachers in my new classes, and made friendly with everyone I'd be sitting around. By that point, I knew most everyone in my grade, and everyone knew me. So it was just a matter of mastering names.

It went on too long, and by the end of the day I was itching for something more to do. My brain was still unfocused and sketchy, and when the final bell rang I nearly ran out of the room, desperate to burn off the energy coursing through my veins. I needed to run or do _something. _But instead I just hustled my way through the hallway, greeting everyone I knew with my best smile and wave, and made way towards my locker at the end of the hall. When I got there, I shoved in the excess books- no homework on the first day- and slammed it shut a little too hard.

Then I looked up, and saw George again. His lunch period was separate from mine, and in the only class we shared, History, we were on opposite sides of the room. I hadn't spoken to him since the beginning of the day, and now we were about to go home together.

Fuck.

I took the deepest breath I could manage, and tried to muster up enough cool to be intelligent by the time I got to his locker. I leaned against the one next to him, and he looked up at me briefly before returning to shoving his things in haphazardly.

"Hey, Buster," he said, not flustered or concerned at all. He was totally calm. Fucker.

"Hey," I replied, wondering if it was possible to have a conversation by saying only one word at a time.

"You still wanna hang? We could go to my place. It's virtually empty anyway." He asked, as he stood up and shouldered his backpack.

I nodded, and then remembered- my mother expected me home. "Y-Yeah," I stammered, and shoved my hand in my pocket, searching for my phone. "My mom just expects me to be home so..." I started dialing, and looked at him. "One second, okay?"

He nodded, and closed his lockers as I crossed the hallway to find a quiet pocket of air in the crowded hallway.

"Hey, Buster!" Mom buzzed cheerfully as she answered the phone. She was still amazed by caller ID.

"Hey, mom, I'm gonna go over to George's house, okay? He's uh, gonna help me with math." I said, cringing. It's not like I needed an excuse to hang out with my friend, but it made me feel better. We were just going to do math. That was all.

"Okay! Will you be home for dinner?" She asked. This phrase would be the ultimate tipping point for me, but it wouldn't click for a while longer. It would be the ultimate get-out-of-jail-free card. The best excuse. And god, would I use it.

"Most likely, but I'll call if I'm not." I said, and she approved. "Thanks, mom, bye!" I said, as George crossed the hall over to me.

"You ready?" He said, and I nodded, shifting my weight awkwardly and vying for my social skills to kick in. I wanted it to stop being so _awkward_. It didn't have to be so goddamn awkward between us. It hadn't been before.

We didn't talk much on the way there, though I'd wished we could have. After we got out of school, we didn't say a word until we reached his front door and greeted his mother. Thankfully he lived close by, and the wind kept it from being so hot that I started sweating. School shouldn't be allowed to start until it's cold, but that unspoken rule never stopped us from sitting in class without air conditioning, swimming in our own sweat.

After greeting his mother, we went up to his room. An only child, with Dad at work and Mom fussing around with something downstairs, George's room was a pretty secluded place. No one would barge in. We were safe.

"How've ya' been?" George asked, motioning me into the room and shutting and locking the door behind us.

"Okay, I guess." I said. I had forgotten why I agreed to come in the first place. What had I thought this would accomplish? I shrugged off my backpack and sat down sheepishly on his bed as he dumped his bag on a desk chair in the corner. "How've you been?"

"Good," He said, and swaggered over to the bed, sitting down next to me without any room to spare. I stopped breathing as he put his arm around my shoulders, and pulled me in to his chest. He whispered smoothly in my ear, "Missed you."

Half of me wanted to relax into it, to just let it be, to enjoy this while it lasted. But the other half of me could recognize the fact that there was only four layers of thin cotton separating my penis from his and just the fact that he had a penis made this whole thing problematic. So rather than letting him start to kiss my ear like he wanted to, I bolted up faster than I could think. I hadn't had time to register any of this. This wasn't what I was expecting- this was exactly what I was expecting, but I wasn't allowing myself to expect it. We were just supposed to do _math. _

"What? Isn't this what you wanted...?" George asked, clearly offended.

"No! No- I mean, yes! Yes, yes, it is!" I said, flustered. I needed a punch in the gut. My head was already beating me up for what I said, the hurt look on his face was just adding to the abuse. "I just... I need to think, okay?"

George nodded. "We'll take it slow." He motioned for me to come sit down, and he slid back on his bed. We sat down, cross legged, across from each other. The distance was comfortable, close enough to be friends, but steering clear of the queer line. It felt good. It felt innocent.

"Let's talk," George said, doing everything he could think of to make me comfortable. I wondered absentmindedly when he had become so cool. He was the gibbering idiot back in third grade, back when I was the smooth talker. But I guess we could just add that to the list of things that have changed since then.

I bit my lip, and nodded. This wasn't going as nearly as well as I had hoped it would. My heart was still thumping out of my chest, and I did my best to focus. "Are you gay?" I asked, a question that had been playing on my head for a while, but I'd never had a chance to ask. Last time we had been a scramble of hands and blushing faces- it was surprising my mom hadn't caught on, but we were cool by the time he had to leave.

"Ehh, sorta?" He said, and shrugged. His cool was slipping, and it was a refreshing reminder that this probably wasn't the easiest thing for him either. "I guess you could say... bi...curious, or whatever they call it. I don't really know, I just... I get a hard on for guys."

He blushed, and I laughed. It was nice to see that even this smooth talker got embarrassed about talking like this. He pouted a little, but smiled. "What about you?"

"I- I dunno. I guess sorta the same..." I said. Skirting the truth. Exactly what I'd been telling myself not to do this year. That whole new-me mantra from the trip sure had lasted long.

George nodded, and we didn't say anything for a little while. The silence was an active one, but I didn't know what he wanted to say. There were no questions hanging in the thin, A/C cooled air, but I had a million things I wanted to say and no way of saying any of them. He did too- and George was the one to break the silence with one question that had been floating in my head. "So, what are we?"

"Like, are we dating?" I asked, blunt. I could do blunt, apparently.

"Yeah."

I waited a second, and thought about it. Was I really ready to date? That sounded so _gay _in my head.

"Do you want us to be?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I don't need us to be. But I'd like to see you."

"I'd like to see you too," The words slipped out of my mouth before I could think about what they meant. The hushed tone came out more husk then I'd meant it too, and I realized just how sexual it came across when the smile came across his lips.

Nothing that happened in that relationship would ever be anything I'd classify as rape. I was never raped, or sexually abused, or assaulted, or anything by George. No matter how it comes across, that's not what was happening. I always wanted it. And I could always have stopped it if I felt we were going too far. But a lot of times I slipped back in my head, to some place else. I let George take the lead, I let him do what he wanted to me. I liked it, don't get me wrong. But I didn't choose to do it. I just followed along with what was happening.

We only made out that day, heavy hands groping at bodies, but our clothes stayed on. No matter how horny, we had our integrity. We were pretty young to do much more, in my opinion. I don't know how George felt on the issue, but he didn't ask to go farther at that stage.

I walked home before his father got back, and before their family had dinner. I pushed my food around when I got home. I didn't feel much like eating. When my mother asked what was wrong, I just said I was tired. I went upstairs, and I took a boiling hot, long shower. When I got out, every inch of me was new and clean. Yet I still felt dirty.

I went to bed that night, and prayed to a god I had never known that if I would sell my soul to wake up a straight man.


End file.
